Dementor Dilemma
by violetdrops
Summary: Based off Goblet of Fire when Dumbledore is upset at McGonagall for letting Crouch have his soul sucked by a dementor. This is McGonagall's thoughts and feelings before, during, and after the event.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Note: This is based off the Goblet of Fire when McGonagall is upset because of the dementor that sucked the soul out of Crouch. I also haven't read the books in a few years because I sadly gave them to my cousin for school. I should be getting new ones for Christmas! ****So please bear with me as I hope this goes along the lines of the GOF. I wrote my one-shot off this quote from the GOF which I found on hp-lexington. - **_'What happened?' said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to __Professor McGonagall__. 'Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you – I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch –' 'There is no need to stand guard over him any more, Dumbledore!' she shrieked. 'The Minister has seen to that!'_

She tried to stop the idiotic Minister. Apparently that didn't work out because a dementor came in, swooped down, and delivered deaths kiss. She couldn't believe her own stupidity. Allowing them in had been the first mistake. Not shoving Fudge into a pile of fudge had been her second.

As a little girl she had suffered some .. trauma .. with the dementors guarding the cell they kept her in. Needless to say she really loathed the bloody creatures. Was fearful of them. Sometimes went into shock around them.

Their black, cold demeanor reminds her of him. They are both in essence a part of death, soulless, and evil. They travel in their own cold winds making the darkest shadows sucking the life out of a person while turning their soul into ice. She imagined in her nightmares that even their kiss would be like a taste of tundra in the winter.

She watches herself unlock the ancient cell and stepped aside for the leader of the wizarding world. When she feels the ice that creeps into her skin she draws her wand.

"Professor. I have a guest with a present for our prisioner. Please step aside."

"You mean a dementor with a kiss, Minister?" She said firmly, a little shaken, but not letting it show.

"Yes. This is what he deserves. He tried to kill a student. He impersonated a school teacher. He had a dark mark. He deserves never to be alive or happy again."

"The Headmaster would not agree. And frankly neither do I."

Before she even had a chance to move the Minister shoved her aside with a simple spell. That thing followed behind him.

In vain she tried to conjure a patronus. Happy thoughts did not come to her. All she could see was her father's soulless eyes after he was killed. Her mother's last farewell before she dove off one of the Scotland hills. Trembling she saw flashbacks of all the deaths she remembered.

"Expecto Patronum!" She whispered desperate. She couldn't let the dementor do this. She couldn't watch another life be taken; if she could not save her sisters from the dementors then she would save this man now. Even if he was evil. Even if he deserved it. She couldn't let another life be sucked away as she watched.

It was unbearably cold and her breaths came out as whisps of smoke. Her spells weren't working no matter how much she put into them. And she watched another dementor drain a person's soul. She swore she could hear its satisfied whoosh of breathe after its tasty treat.

Minerva wanted to scream. She wanted to rip the dementor to shreds. She wanted a warm blanket by the fire. She didn't want to be a witness, bystander, or association of a dementor attack. She didn't want to be an accomplice. God, she hated herself.

She was a witch wasn't she? Her wand wasn't broken, her mouth worked, so did her hands but the spell didn't. Maybe it was because she let her own personal reasons get in the way again. She tried to be strong but as hard as she tried everyone died around her.

Satisfied with this Fudge let out a low little chuckle.

"Well that takes care of that." And then he walked out casually, leaving her there with that thing. She quickly rushed out of the cell and locked the door. She really hoped that the stupid soulless creature would stay there.

"You can't just do that! You took a man's life! It's not fair!" She was so infuriated. How could the Minister of Magic, a supposed noble, honest man, just kill a person as if they were nothing? How could he leave her there to have her soul sucked? This was ridiculous and she would take him down. Anger burned through her, made her cheeks become flames, her eyes emerald ashes, as she screamed at him.

Dumbledore saw them.

_'What happened?' said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to __Professor McGonagall__. 'Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you – I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch –'  
'There is no need to stand guard over him any more, Dumbledore!' she shrieked. 'The Minister has seen to that!' (See note at top of page)_

Dumbledore was completely calm on the outside but she could feel the lingering anger. He looked at her as if it was all her fault, as if she was the reason for Barty's death. In truth she was at fault. She couldn't conjure a silly patronus. She wasn't a student, she was a teacher. An advanced duelist. An inspiration to students on propriety. A failure. She knew it. He knew it. And of course Barty Crouch did. She wondered if his soul would haunt her. Wreck havoc on her life until she joined him in the undead because she was murdered by a dementor too. How poetically sick.

A suit of armor cracked. Dumbledore looked at her and she saw what she hated to see.

"Professor McGonagall, I want you to meet me in my office after you have calmed yourself."

It was then she noticed she was still shaking. She turned quickly, almost fell but walked briskly away from him with tears falling onto her shoes. She didn't want to go to his office. She didn't want to stand around such a man of honor and brilliance. A savior, a friend, a displeased Headmaster. She couldn't bear to be in the same room with a man who was so superior to her weak, frail, self. The dementor should have drained her empty existence while he had the chance.


End file.
